


Die Brutkönigin

by sawnixere



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Body Paint, Double Penetration, F/M, Fivesome - F/M/M/M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Orgy, Oviposition, cumflation, human/kobold - Freeform, labor, or rather five at once but a total group of like a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 11:56:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18716587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sawnixere/pseuds/sawnixere
Summary: Anonymous user asked for this as an Easter work, though it's a little late."The Brood Queen"Rahe is a simple farm girl whose father keeps running her boyfriends off. One day, a kobold breaks into the chicken coop and kills a hen, and Rahe follows it back to its den. Only then does she realize that it has a whole pack, and they're all male. Plus, they have plans for her, when she finally comes back to see them.





	Die Brutkönigin

“I will _not_ have my daughter gain a whore’s reputation!” Avor’s fist came down hard upon the table, rattling the candlesticks and sending an apple tumbling to the floor.

Rahe smacked down a rag she’d been drying their washbasin with and stomped her foot. “We didn’t even do anything!  Besides, I’m old enough to do what I like, without escort!” Rahe snapped in return.

“And old enough to understand what’s good for you! Now _go_ , tend to the birds.” Her father’s tone brooked no argument, and so Rahe swallowed down her snipe and huffed out toward their small chicken coop.

She’d not immediately heard the squawks, too busy being incensed by her father’s infuriating protectiveness, so when she turned beyond the corner of the woodshed and saw the hens aflutter, her pace quickened.

“Hey! What-” She paused halfway into tying a cloth over her long brown hair, having finally noticed the tail as well, a spiny, sinewy thing. It was lizardlike, but far, far bigger than the salamanders she sometimes found in the wet wood under the trees.

Her outburst startled it; a scaly head popped up from between the chickens, its muzzle bloody and teeth well into one of the hens’ necks. It stared at her, eyes as muddy brown as its hide, then turned and scuttled on all fours without a word until it was at the edge of the coop, gathered itself and leaped clean to the top of the wire, chicken still dangling from its mouth.

“No!” Rahe shouted, waving her hands. “Get down, give me that, you stupid kobold!”

Its tail lashed, but it didn’t respond and in fact, did the opposite. Hefting itself over the fence, it landed on all fours, then sprung into a two-legged sprint toward the mountains.

Normally, most everyone was warned away from kobolds. That was because usually, they attacked in packs like smaller, two-legged wolf-lizards, and those left alone with them found themselves overpowered quicker than not. But Rahe, still angry and spurred further by the loss of one of the laying hens, took off after the single raider, hiking up her skirt so she could keep up.

The little menace took her out beyond her family’s field, but not into the woods. Instead, they passed the stands of trees by for open plains; Rahe almost lost the thing in the tall spring grass, but as it took no care in hiding, she bounded through the already-flattened areas it had created, following the sound of the bone decorations it wore.

It dashed along, ducking low along a jagged upheaval of dirt and rock that began the nearby mountains’ foothills, and Rahe turned one edge just as its tail disappeared into a fracture in the stone. She reached for it, missed its capture, and skidded to a halt outside what was clearly its den. Panting, she considered, retying her headscarf to keep her sweaty hair from flying in her face. Kobolds usually hunted or scavenged in packs, and this one had been alone. Rahe didn’t know much about kobolds, per se, but what she did know gave her the confidence that she could at least deal with a single one. She even had a small, if not quite sharp, pruning knife tucked into her pocket. Steeling herself with a breath and the thought that perhaps if she did right just now, her father would allow her a suitor or two, she readjusted her skirt and ducked to crawl in after the kobold.

The den was dark and smelled of death and dirt, though the fetid scent dissipated the more she moved along. She’d expected the tunnel to be less of a squeeze, the kobolds not quite the stature of a human but also slightly larger than a common dog, but her skirt brushed the edges and she had to remain on all fours, no doubt ruining her stockings as she crawled along the twisting passage. And as she crawled, she began to hear noises that made her slow.

One more sharp angle found the end of the shaft emptying into a much larger area of brighter light; Rahe stayed out of sight, now fully aware that the noises she was hearing were coming from multiple sources, and her suspicion was confirmed by the many scaly bodies surrounding what was now no more than a splatter of blood and some feathers. Rahe wasn’t good with numbers, but her slow counting turned around at least three sets of four of the chattering lizards, some of whom she may have forgot to count or counted twice.

She couldn’t possibly do anything to all of them, not with just her harvesting knife. Besides, the chicken was already gone, and so she could only claim a pyrrhic victory if she _did_ manage to survive their onslaught. All there was to do was return home.

...She couldn’t turn around.

The tunnel was too narrow any any point for her to shift enough to go back face-first, and when she tried to back up, her skirt began sticking, tugged over her back and head as she moved. She muttered an oath under her breath, seeing no other way out, and instead pushed forward, head ducked low, around the sharp curve and into the dim light.

Immediately, there was silence. She froze, head nearly touching the ground and legs still mostly in the passage. Breathing through her nose, she listened, ears ringing in the quiet, before a dozen shuffling feet got closer.

She flinched.

Out of the corner of her half-closed eye, she saw the birdlike feet and dull nails of a few kobolds. _Passive. Don’t hurt them, they won’t hurt you_ , she thought to herself, not believing it at all, but clinging to that hope.

The kobolds chittered to each other, and she felt the gentle jab of a stick in her shoulder. Nothing. And then another jab, and more chittering.

Carefully, she raised her head, and came face-to-face with the muzzle of one of them. It was a sort of hazy green, and even in the dim light she could see the mottles of brown like pebbles in the color, a harsh gray scar slashed over one milky eye. It stared at her, its one broken horn giving it a more severe look, and then it took a deep breath and exhaled, the dusty air suddenly smelling faintly of chicken blood.

Rahe remained exactly where she was. The scarred kobold took a few shorter breaths, then leaned over her and repeated the motion. A susurration of hushed squeaking passed between the other kobolds, and then the scarred one made a noise, and the rest of the group backed away, the mass of them conglomerating in the corners of their den. Only then did the scarred kobold continue its examination. It leaned around her side, then hunched onto all fours and dropped its head lower than her chin.

The suddenness jerked Rahe up, her back to the wall and hands up protectively, but the kobold jumped itself, falling back half a step.

“I don’t… I can just leave,” she started, doubting they could even understand her. The scarred one- maybe the leader?- shuddered minutely and licked its lips, making Rahe’s face scrunch. She examined it in return, its tail curled to balance it as it crouched, its single good horn painted with chipping color and its body striped in more of the same. It wore nothing save its decoration, one of which was a piece of fur tied with dried sinews over one of its hips and- oh…

Rahe could see now that it was _male_. The scales between its legs must be soft and pliable, because they had revealed a fleshy slit and a comparatively large erection. It looked… not quite human, but Rahe had never seen anything else to compare it to aside from a horse, and it was definitely not horselike.

Still, that didn’t mean she wasn’t _intrigued_. Mostly, however, she was still very aware of the multitude of other kobolds still watching her, and so she slowly turned.

“I’ll just leave,” she repeated as she did, twisting her body and moving so she could crawl back out of the den. She shifted her skirt and crawled forward, then felt a weight on the fabric and panicked. Without looking back, she scrabbled back through the tunnel, the noises of all the kobolds muffled by her hands slapping the dirt and the drag of her clothing against the walls.

Outside light greeted her, and she heaved herself up to her feet and darted away, leaving the den of chicken thieves behind.

 

***

 

Rahe couldn’t stop thinking about the scarred kobold. In fact, she had no qualms over thinking about _any_ of them. The group of them, in their den, overshadowed the boys in town, drawing a haziness about her mind.

Her father had forgiven the chicken, knowing she was safe and what had happened to it, and life had settled more or less into their daily routine. But every day as she went in the morning to feed the chickens, Rahe glanced through the fence and wondered if the kobolds were waiting for her to return, and what, if anything, they might plan on doing if she did.

That evening, once she’d shut the hens in their coop and feigned an early night, closing herself behind her small bedroom door, she waited for her father’s lamp to dim, then took the rolls and few pieces of fruit and jerky from where she’d stashed them through the day and pocketed them. The shutters on her window were well-made and so didn’t squeak when she opened them to let herself out onto the wheelbarrow parked beneath. It was a slightly wobbly climb, but she made it while only catching her dress once and struggling momentarily to tug it free.

With that, she closed the shutters again, peeked up through the slats and waited. No sound followed, and so she turned and strode from the house, away from the chicken coop and woodshed, and toward the foothills of the mountains. In the dark, it was harder to spot the small opening, but she’d lived in the house all her life and her days were spent with friends, exploring the vast fields and nearby edge of the woods. Once she carved a path through the tall grass, she fished in her pockets for her tiny tinderbox and a fat little boar-wax candle, whose light made the going easier.

“There,” she whispered to herself, skirting the craggy ground and spotting the fissure she’d chased the kobold into. With no use for the candle- it too awkward to carry as she crawled on all fours- she put out the light, then hiked up her skirt and tied it, and bent to begin her trespass into the kobolds’ den.

It was quieter about then, maybe because more were gone, or maybe because they were sleeping. She shuffled forward, feeling her way along until her hand hit the curve of the wall that led into the main opening under the rocks. Taking a breath, she held it, then let it out slowly and edged further, keeping her eyes fixed on the ground and her moving hands.

Still, silence.

Rahe dared to glance up, just enough to peek at what the kobolds were doing, and then schooled herself out of jumping back. The old kobold- Old Scar, she called him in her mind- stood before her, the others’ eyes glinting in the half-light of the moon from a crevice somewhere above. She held her breath. Old Scar didn’t move.

“I… ah,” she tried, barely above a whisper. She still didn’t know if they could understand her, and honestly they probably couldn’t. What was she meant to say to them anyhow? ‘I keep thinking about you’? ‘Why didn’t you kill me’?

Old Scar’s nostrils flared; his chest belled with the deep breaths he took, and then shallower ones as he finally leaned forward, scaly muzzle barely an inch from her cheek. She shuddered as he brought his nose against her neck, but was left leaned into it almost immediately as the kobold backed away sharply.

“Wait,” she said, slightly louder now and watching all of them. “By gods, if you can’t understand me, it doesn’t matter.”

Rahe sat up, leaning back on her heels and raising her hands in a universal motion- _I won’t hurt you_. The kobolds behind Old Scar chittered at each other and at him, and he responded gutturally as he inched forward again, hunching onto all fours with his tail stiff and straight. He huffed air along her face and neck as she sat still, his breath smelling slightly decayed from a recent meal, but not entirely unpleasant, and then continued his exploration.

He pushed along the sides of her bodice and her shoulders, lingering at her chest, before moving along, though he didn’t seem to find anything interesting after the initial pass. As he brought his nose up under her chin again, she lowered one hand, her fingertips hesitating, then brushing the scales of his belly. He twitched, and she halted, not unaware of the continued hushed noises coming from his brethren. But when nothing more happened, she looked at his face, easing her palm flat against his surprisingly smooth underbelly.

“I saw, last time,” she tried, not really knowing what she was saying. He twitched again, his hips shifting as she drew her fingers between his legs. “May I see again?”

His body understood perhaps more than his mind did. The wide scales at his groin were soft, and as she flattened her hand along them, they revealed a small, fleshy slit. At that, Old Scar’s hips bucked against her palm, and she could feel the beginnings of a forming bulge which was quickly becoming arousal. Her own, too, was already becoming a persistent nag at her mind, and she leaned forward, pressing her thighs together.

That, however, did not relieve it. And, well. The kobolds didn’t appear to want to harm her, especially Old Scar, who seemed rather more interested in anything else. Rahe sat up higher, adjusting so she could tug her pinned skirt free, and gather it over her knees.

And then, quickly, before sense caught onto her, she turned a quarter turn and hauled the linen over her hips where it rested in a bunch and cascaded from her waist, revealing her bare skin and legs protected with only wool socks tied at the tops. She spread her knees, pillowing her face on her arms, and turned her head. “This is what you want, isn’t it?”

The sound of the kobolds heightened. Old Scar in particular made a noise, and took another deep breath. Whatever he smelled in it made him go rigid for a moment, then scurry closer. Rahe felt the same damp breath on her nethers as she had on her neck, and a moment later, a warm, slithery feeling as Old Scar flattened his tongue between her legs and licked. His cock jumped, as if a mindless feeler looking for a place to embed itself.

There came no more hesitation from him; the next moment, he chirred, and she felt his claws dig into the fabric at her waist, and the heat of him against her backside. His cock slipped between her nether lips in a rush, none of the tentative worry of a human holding the creature back, and then he was bucking, shoving all of himself into her with a furiousness enough to rock her face into her arms. She immediately braced against the ground with her hands, fingertips white, and groaned, Old Scar’s thrusts turning the drawn-out note staccato.

“O- o- oh,” Rahe breathed into the dirt. “Ah- _ah_ , more…”

Old Scar obliged, soft underbelly scales meeting with slaps against her skin, wet squelch of her dampness accompanying it.

Somewhere in the corner of her mind, Rahe still felt the presence of the other kobolds. They were surprisingly warm for looking like lizards; Old Scar felt like the heat of a residual fire against her, a hot poker within.

And then, suddenly, Old Scar’s footing changed. He lifted one leg, bracing it against the front of her thigh, and then halted his thrusting only a moment to hop and place the other so that he sat on her backside much like he was riding a pony. It shifted his angle, his cock now stretching her and forced downward and in, but the feeling only lasted a moment before he seemed to expand, the girth shoved into her almost twice what it had been.

“A- _ah_ ,” Rahe gasped, face pushed against the dirt and the exclamation encased in a puff of dust. Her whole body shuddered, curling into itself and forcing her forehead against the ground. Dazed, she tilted enough to glance back and see two sets of legs. Two cocks ramming into her, with Old Scar balanced, his tail over the shoulder of another male kobold who’d come up behind and decided to share.

The others had gotten closer, but that was of no consequence to Rahe. She groaned, the kobolds having neither the patience nor the coordination to pick up a rhythm. Rahe shook with each set of thrusts, pushed this way and that while Old Scar rode her and the other one clung to her hips.

Their cocks pushed deep; Rahe had never felt so full. The back-and-forth rubbed one over the other, their girths stretching her, pushed up under her navel and into her womb. Their thin cock heads squeezed together, the pinch and press of one of them squirming beyond anything she had ever felt. It was almost uncomfortable, but after a moment, her body adjusted and the second cock wiggled further, stretching her cervix. Old Scar’s scales slapped against her ass, and then his claws tightened in the fabric of her dress. He jolted forward, cock jumping, and came, and Rahe was overwhelmed with a hot, gurgling sensation as he dumped his load into her womb, thick spurts of his seed awash within her.

The other kobold seemed not to care a lick, its own cock shortly slicked in honeylike come and all the more easy to push into her. Old Scar draped across her back, seemingly content, while the rest of the group of kobolds murmured among themselves and the second kobold’s cock head teased just inside her cervix, plugging her so that Old Scar’s seed stayed well and truly inside. A couple brave ones inched closer, but Old Scar was already spent and sated. He let himself slide further down, his dextrous cock popping free and leaving Rahe wide open for the rest to have their chance.

With abandon, the other kobolds descended upon her. Somewhere in the scuffle, the second kobold got knocked back enough that his cock _schlorp_ ed from within her, her cervix contracting. Two of the others clambered onto her back, another couple rooting around beneath where she hunched. A few more pushed their way forward as well, but with only so much space to go around, they ended up hanging a bit further back. Rahe, still dazed, but a hungry lust in her eyes, rolled onto her side, cocking one leg and presenting her come-soaked nethers to the small horde.

The second kobold- rust-red with an already wanton and glistening cock, jumped for his chance, one leg bent and the other thrust out. Another, this one nearly blue it was so green-gray, joined him, both of them claiming her entrance with their cocks in tandem. They slid in easily, already soaked from Old Scar’s seed, and pounded into her, filling her just as they had before, the heads of their cocks prodding her walls.

Yet another explored her ass, his nose pushed against her and apparently finding the scent enough to relish. Drops of drool hung from his jaw, and he wasted no time in guiding the thin head of his cock against and inside her. It was surprise, and the slight sharp burn that made her jerk, legs threatening to snap closed but remaining opened wide out of sheer ecstacy. Rahe’s mouth hung open, silently begging for all they could give her and more, her pupils blown large in the moments that she opened her eyes, and body glistening with sweat.

The dusky orange kobold- Rusty, she’d call him later, when she was coherent- buried himself inside her, cock pulsing as he came, and then as soon as he rolled from atop her, another took his place. A brief scrabble began between the most recent kobold and the one already deep within her, but it didn’t last long, not while others were vying for the same action.

And yet, there were some that couldn’t wait that long. That, or they’d decided that any hole was good enough. A pebbly brown one, scars mangling his left shoulder, hunched toward Rahe’s head, his cock shiny and twitching in the low moonlight. He made some sound in his throat that Rahe didn’t understand, maybe asking permission, maybe giving a command, but whatever it was, it preceded the head of his cock pushed against her lips, and Rahe, too, made a noise in her throat. Her whole body now used by the kobolds, she could only brace with her arms and hold her head up enough that the scarred brown one could thrust at an angle where she wouldn’t choke. The weight of the others pinned one leg, her skirts bunched up over her stomach and only held at bay from dislodging completely by the belt at her waist.

She lost count of the kobolds as they replaced one another, each after the next, her ravaged mouth and nethers gaping and dripping, throat coated with sticky come. Sweat-soaked, she eventually had to turn again, lest her leg fall asleep. She dragged herself up against the wall of the den, but much to the irritation of her remaining suitors, her clothing got in the way. It was a chore, tired and muzzy in the throes of such mad activity, to finally remove her outer tunic and belt, and be rid of the two layers beneath, but as soon as she’d tossed her shift to the ground- cooler for it and having been allowed a moment for her mind to clear- she lay on her back, feet braced against the wall, and once again received the onslaught.

With her new position, the kobolds fought their way toward her. Sometimes she serviced just two at once, sometimes three. Four, if they pushed against each other enough, ravaged her seemingly endlessly, whatever noises she could make at the cocks shoved deep into her nethers stifled by yet another lodged just as deep in her throat.

Come trickled from the corners of her mouth, drops of it on the ground and in her hair. Her nethers were soaked, legs equally damp, and the lewd squelching of thrusting cocks mixing with the grunts and chattering of the kobolds made up the background cacophony. Rahe felt _full_ , and not simply full of the kobolds between her wide-spread legs. She’d swallowed the seed of several kobolds at that point, her stomach sloshing and gurgling for it. A spurt or two followed after yet another of her harem dislodged himself from her ass, spent. Two more let loose their seed deep within her- her belly felt tight, and yet nothing escaped as yet more took up with filling her entrance.

Old Scar, as well, and Rusty, and the ones she could only call by what they looked like- HornSnap, Snaggle, Hookclaw, Blue, all of them had once again joined the pack surrounding her. Had it been that long, that they’d recovered? That they wanted to claim her all over again?

Rusty shoved his way in after one of the others had pulled free, Snaggle not far behind. Rahe, overstimulated, delighted, nay, thrown for more a loop than she cared to comprehend, shuddered, squeezing around them, and came, her own fluids added to the mess surrounding her.

Her walls clenched tight around them, drawing them deep. She felt, momentarily, a pinch, as if a thrust had scraped where it shouldn’t, but the feeling was gone almost instantly.

Caught on the afterwave of orgasm, Rahe lay, her feet propped up and knees spread wide to accommodate the cycle of kobolds between her thighs, and simply _let_ them.  


Eventually, the kobolds tired. Old Scar himself had three goes, her innards sponging up his seed along with the others’. It was Blue who kept on the longest, fucking not only her ass but her mouth, and with the last of his energy, letting loose a final effort to coat her insides with come. His cock throbbed within her and he finally sagged to lay against her belly, one that was no longer flat like her chest.

Her stomach worked at the seed inside it, churning and full. Her abused ass dribbled infrequently, the muscles flexing around her full guts, but beyond that, her womb clung to the most, their thick and curling cocks having breached her deepest recesses and deposited their loads directly. Distended around the mass inside her, her belly domed taut and warm under Blue’s hot, scaly skin.

He, too, rolled off her after some time, and it was quite a while longer before Rahe bothered moving, and sluggishly at that. Rather than her normal, quick dressing, she rose deliberately, though only to her knees, to gather her clothes. She didn’t want to, not when she was shaky and sated, and overall simply wanted to sleep. But if she did sleep, it would be well past morning by the time she returned, and she couldn’t have her father thinking she’d gone into town looking for her suitors. In fact, she couldn’t have him find out she’d left at all.

She did pause briefly to examine herself, crouched on one side of the den. Her skin had dried of sweat, but dust had smudged on her hips and limbs, and in her hair. The excess of her own juices had dried as well, and when she tentatively reached to touch herself with her fingertips, they came back with a sheen of the kobolds’ seed on them, as if it had turned to thin, malleable wax. Surely, though, she could wash it away along with the grime caked on her.

What she couldn’t do, however, was wash away the roundness of her belly. She ran her hand over it, a score of kobolds’ seed within her stomach and womb and bowels, and thought briefly that she looked as though with child like her friend Gertie had been when she was early in the stages of it. But her dress would hide it, surely. It was not so much of a belly that the drape of fabric would give anything away.

Pulling on her shift, she resolved to tell her father nothing. The kobolds hadn’t hurt her- far from it- and no one needed to know they even existed, outside of their tendencies toward stealing. And perhaps if she learned enough about them, she’d be able to stop them coming around the town anyway.

For now, she tied her belt around her now-rounder waist and pulled on her tunic and headscarf. The kobolds lay in a messy arrangement, flopped alone or in groups, using each other as pillows. A couple of them remained awake, Snaggle in particular, and Rahe gave a long look at him before turning toward the tunnel to the outside.

A few of them perked up, shuffling alerting her to their movements, and she glanced back. “Ssh, it’s alright,” she tried, as they moved closer. “I have to go. I’ll… I’ll be back.”

She hadn’t meant to say it immediately, but as soon as she’d begun, she realized what she was saying was true. She was going to come back again, though she didn’t know when. A sudden thought struck her just then as well, one she hadn’t noticed up until she looked over the lot of them.

Every single one was male.

No wonder they’d kept from hurting her, if they were so wanting to _use_ her.

“I’ll come back,” she repeated, and then raised a hand. “Stay.”

Maybe they understood. Maybe they didn’t care, or were simply governed by the fact that she turned to leave and they didn’t want to harm her by keeping her there. Whatever the reason, they picked their way forward only a little bit more, but by that point, she was into the tunnel, and when she stood up on the outside, none had followed.

 

***

Rahe returned home a few hours before dawn, lucky that she usually laid abed too long anyway, so that her father or mother had to come and prod her from sleep. She went about her morning simply, her distended belly well-hidden by her loose clothing while her body worked through the kobolds’ seed and complained with gurgles and rumbling at how full she’d stuffed herself.

She did pause toward the end of the night that evening, as she was dressing down, to examine her belly more closely. It was still rounded, no doubt bloated with the remains of the kobolds’ come which had stayed firmly where they’d dumped it, but it was a curious thing as well. Her door closed, she sat on her bed, chamber pot nearby, and tentatively prodded along her navel and the underside of her belly, the skin firm but still pliable. Her hand explored further between her legs, and she dipped two fingers against her nethers, expecting to feel a slight dampness or the like, but instead she came back with an almost waxy, jelly-like substance where she pushed her fingers inside.

It had a vague musky smell, but the consistency was so strange to her- like if honey could harden somewhere between itself and beeswax, and yet remain sticky. She had no familiarity with a good deal of some of the other farm animals, but her father had, when they’d bred their old swine with the neighbor’s, explained that the male ensured his lineage with a mucus-like plug which gave a lower chance that another male could successfully mate. The kobolds’ come must have taken a bit longer to solidify, with so many of them working at it, but left alone, it had thickened and coated her nethers.

She had, as well, tested her ass, her already waxy fingers exploring and finding the same sort of plug. Tentatively, she prodded it, and then maneuvered her fingers to try and pry it free, worried at what trouble it might cause. She managed a little, it sloughing off in chunks, and then suddenly her body decided that it desperately needed to rid itself of the seed roiling around in her bowels. Thankfully, her chamber pot was close by, and soon she felt as if she’d emptied the entirety of her bowels into it, a chore in itself. Her belly flattened quickly at that, though the remaining seed within her womb- too deep for Rahe to try and break the seal of- still showed, if she looked closely enough.

She held a skip in her step the next day, pleased that she’d found a way around the mass in her stomach. Early the next afternoon, however, when her mother sent her to pick berries for hand pies to snack on, Rahe suddenly felt a wetness down her leg as she crossed to the thickets near the trees. The pressure in her belly immediately felt better, but when she raised her dress, she realized that the sticky plug that had kept the kobold’s seed within her had dissipated, sending a rush of the fluid down between her thighs and splashed the ground and her stockings with come. Red-faced, she rushed to remove her stockings, using one to clean herself of the fluid, and stuffed them into her pockets to be dealt with later.

The rest, though, her belly slowly absorbed, and Rahe remained giddy over the den of kobolds she now held as a secret and amused at the thought of returning.

And return she did.

The first was over a week later, and the kobolds were again initially wary as she crawled back through the tunnel. However, they seemed to recognize her all the same, especially once she’d done away with her cumbersome clothing. Each took their turn- or turns, the night long and the kobolds’ stamina quick to return. Rahe bent to all fours, letting one after another grab her hips and pound into her, lifting her head to run her tongue up the cocks of others, letting them fill her willingly with their thick, waxy come.

She came home well-seeded, her belly taut but hidden under her dress.

After that, she went more frequently, though she still spaced the visits several days apart. The kobolds were always happy to see her, beginning to greet her as she entered the den, huddling close to her and sleeping nearer together after their nights between her legs. Some even presented her with gifts- or what could be called gifts to the animal-like beings. Rahe developed a small trove of shiny stones and bird feathers, bits of bone strung on dried sinew and talons scratched with curious, if crude, symbols which she could not decipher.

Her father became more mellow as well; Rahe’s jaunts into town all but ceased save for their trips to the market, and with no complaints about being escorted and no sneaking off, he gave her a longer leash, not that she needed it. Any wandering eye of a boy simply made her turn up her chin. After all, what good was a single man when she had a kobold harem all to herself?

By now, the spring weather had turned toward summer, the heat of the day increasing and bleaching the green of the grass to heavy-scented yellows. Unfortunately for Rahe, it meant longer hours of sunlight and more work before the dark invitation of night slunk across their land, and she was antsy. It had been several days since her last visit to the den, and her little pack must be wondering where she was. She itched for the chance to return to them, and went about her work in a buzzing, hazy way, her head thick with lust and heat.

Eventually, though, the day cooled and the colors deepened, and her parents retired to bed, as did she. But like always, and now without the need for so many layers on her journey, Rahe expertly climbed from her window and slunk away into the night in but her shift.

She needed no candle anymore, not when she knew her den’s location nearly by scent. The crevice welcomed her, and as she crawled into the open cave, so too did her kobolds. They chittered happily at her, tails stiff and excited almost as if they could wag if given the opportunity. Clamoring around her, they presented new little bits and bobbles, beads and feathers and bones, alongside well-charred rabbit. She accepted them all with soft hands and embraces, and wasted no time in eating her fill and then stripping away her shift to adorn herself with them despite knowing she’d have to take them off and keep them aside before returning home.

Each and every one of them looked pleased. Old Scar and Rusty basked in her gaze, and the others huddled as close as they could, none refusing her touch.

“Time is short these days,” she said wistfully, caressing Blue’s small crest as they all sat leaned against the smooth wall. Hookclaw nudged against her as well, his face stuffed between Mothwing’s and Rahe’s side. “My hours here are taken by the sun staying too long.”

Not, of course, that they had developed any understanding at her words. It seemed the sound was enough for them.

“No sense in wasting it,” she murmured, tugging at Hookclaw, who willingly straddled her. The motion caused a slow cascade, Old Scar the next to join as Rahe took Hookclaw’s cock in her mouth. She spread her legs, and Old Scar filled the void, joined by his brethren.

Regretfully, and with a belly once more tight and plugged with the fullness of kobold come, Rahe made her way home, slipping through her window and collapsing into bed for the few hours of sleep she could manage before being roused by the clucking of hens and the making of breakfast in the kitchen.  


There was, however, a problem. Rahe didn’t notice at first, too used to the small dome of her belly after her visits to the den. As the days passed, however, the tautness of her belly didn’t diminish. Perhaps it was only that she was gaining weight now that the summer harvest was beginning and there was no shortage of food to be seen. Perhaps her body had simply adjusted to carrying the reminder of her nights away from home.

Whatever it was, she merely cinched her belt a little tighter and hunched just enough that her dress hung and kept it hidden, aside from sneaking away and reveling in the freedom of exposing her body to her lovers within their den.

Except that with each passing day, the smooth shape under her dress grew, and no she could no longer chock it up to the simple explanation of the kobolds’ ravishing her. Her breasts, too, enlarged, though not as readily apparent compared to her middle. Another day, and she hunched further, scolded once by her mother to stand straight. Yet another, and when she reached to pull on her tunic, she found that she could see the indent of her belt beneath it, and her stomach beyond that.

Now worried, she couldn’t convince herself to sneak into the night, and instead lay awake in her bed, arm curled down over her ever-expanding girth.

Kobolds were not inherently magical creatures, not so far as Rahe knew. But some legends tied them to the mating of goblin and dragon, or some such nonsense. Whatever stories said, it was clear that they had magicked her somehow, or whatever magic they did have had bled into her after all. With dawning fear, she realized that it could not only be that she was full of her lovers’ seed, but that something within her had taken hold.

She was pregnant.

Thankfully, her work around the house didn’t put undue strain on her, and she was able to keep from looking too winded whenever she trundled laundry in, or gathered water. But the test of time quickly put even her most daring thoughts to bed. Just under a fortnight later, and without any visits to the den in that time, she rolled from bed and pulled her linen dress over her head, only for it to sit gathered at the crest of her gravid belly. She found the edges and tugged on it, but she couldn’t pull it free without squeezing herself uncomfortably into it or popping the seams at her sides.

She had no dresses larger than this- why would she, when she was usually stick-thin?- and so was left with a choice: remain in her shift, which was also just barely containing her girth, and stay in her room, or ruin her whole wardrobe by stretching it over herself.

Sighing, and running her hands over her roundness, she resigned to take the former option. She tugged her dress off and climbed back under her blanket, curling up tight.

Her mother called for her again, but Rahe didn’t answer, and instead buried her face against her pillow.

Again, a call, and a tap on her door. Rahe mumbled a halfhearted reply, but it wasn’t satisfactory enough; her mother opened the door.

“Abed late? Come, Rahe, you’ve chores.”

“I don’t _feel_ well, mum,” Rahe murmured, her mother striding across the small room to meet her at her bedside.

“No? You were fine and gay until bedtime last night. Come, up and we’ll push the sick out with fennel tea and root of liquorice.”

Rahe groaned, unwilling to move. She blinked up at her mother, trying to appear red-eyed, not hard with the worry clenching at her chest. “Mum…”

“You’ll see!” Her mother took hold of the edge of her blanket and gave a sharp tug. Rahe grabbed for the opposite edge, but too late, and her mother gathered it into her arms. “Now c-”

The blanket flopped to the ground. Rahe’s mother’s hands hung at her side limply as she stared at the curled form of her daughter, clearly fat around her middle to the point that her wide shift could no longer hide it as well as it had been.

“ _Rahe!_ What did you _do?!_ Had you gone out at night? Into town? Who has seen you into their bed? Rahe, you- you…”

“Margit?” Avor’s voice rang through the house, overpowering Rahe’s stuttering and her mother’s trailing questions. “Has Rahe dressed? The day is already begun.”

For a moment, a fear crossed over Margit’s face, one that Rahe couldn’t quite place. Not a fear of her father, but perhaps of what anyone else would think of a child born out of wedlock, or fear for the supposed man Rahe had allowed to bed her. Margit’s jaw tightened, but she said nothing.

She’d left Rahe’s door open. Avor leaned into the doorframe, and time seemed to slow as multiple pieces clicked into place.

He turned from Margit to Rahe and his eyes widened. Margit stepped aside as he strode forward, and Rahe finally untucked herself and sat up to bear the onslaught. In his eyes, as he grimaced, she saw pain and anger, a bubble of emotion welling inside him. He didn’t grab her, though his hand briefly reached as if he would.

“Who?!” he shouted. “Who have you gone to? Who have you borne the child of?”

Rahe knew he wouldn’t listen. It was a fantastical idea anyway, her becoming pregnant after months in town with an escort beside her. She could admit to sneaking away, but not to where. If she told the truth, that she’d been the plaything in a den of kobolds numbering nearly a score, they wouldn’t believe her, and surely would not follow her to the den for proof. And if she admitted what ‘truth’ they wanted, she would be left with a man who she no longer desired. Perhaps they would make her marry him to save their perceived grandchild from the title of bastard. Perhaps they would run away, or pretend the child never existed at all.

But then, when it did come? What would the union of her and the kobolds even be? Surely not a human, and surely nothing her parents would seek to keep alive once her pregnancy saw itself to the end.

“Father, I-”

“You disobeyed me!” he interrupted. “And now look where it’s gotten you. Unwed, and unmarriageable at that, a bastard child and another mouth to feed that your dowry must surely pay for. I thought we’d raised a smarter girl than that.”

Rahe’s face was hot. Her eyes welled with tears to match the ones on her mother’s face. Her father, still sad, but with a fire of anger eating away at it, clenched his fists.

“Father, I didn’t-”

His hand flattened before it hit her cheek. Instead of what would become a bruise, a red mark bloomed, and Rahe sat in shock, reeling. Her father had never laid a hand on her before, and just now, it looked like he didn’t even regret it.

“Avor,” Margit started, but without a word, he turned and stomped through the door and to the hall. Margit turned only briefly to Rahe before following after him in a quick step, leaving her daughter in the deafening silence of her room.

They didn’t come back right away, and slowly, Rahe realized they may not even come back to get her for the day’s chores at all. And then what? What could she do after this? Stay, be called a witch or a sorceress, or…

The sun continued to rise, summer in full swing and the heat growing with the passing hours. Rahe eventually rose and, in only her shift, went about collecting small things into her purses. Candles, matches, a few things of value that her parents had given her when she’d become a young lady. She took her blanket and folded it, then rolled it up, packing a few extra dresses into its center. That, she rolled in another two blankets, and then pushed the mass into a tunic whose arms and hem she tied like a bindle around her shoulders.

A bittersweet feeling pushed up under her ribs. She ran a hand over the round of her belly and thought, carefully, about what she was taking, and what she was leaving behind. It was surprising, how much of her life could fit in a bedroll.

She peeked from her room but found the rest of the house empty, her parents long gone outside to tend to their land and animals. Rahe slipped carefully toward the stove, where she dug through the ash for a piece of charred wood, and took a dishtowel to spread on the squat table.

 _G b w ye,_ she wrote meticulously, her letters broad and slouchy. _I am safe. Do not look. Rahe._

By the time she finished, the whole towel was taken up with sooty markings, and a drawing of a heart for good measure. She tossed the char back into the stove’s mouth, leaving the towel on the table, and for the first time, left her house through the front door on the way to the den.  


HornSnap was the one to greet her, his lopsided head turning to watch Rahe as she picked her way along the well-known trail. He crowed, leaping to his feet like an excited dog, and two other kobolds scurried down from the rocks to follow.

They churred and snuffled at her, and she in turn stroked their heads and shoulders, embracing them. Mothwing nuzzled into her side, his and Pebble’s arms wrapped around her waist though they didn’t quite reach all the way around.

“You have me all to yourselves now,” she murmured, her chest aching with the words. The kobolds kept tight to her, unmoving. Whether they could feel her upset, she didn’t know, but they paid her enough attention that when she began moving, they quickly followed, Mothwing behind and the other two clinging to her shift.

Each let go only so they could crawl into the tunnel, the two ahead and Mothwing still lagging behind. The inner den welcomed them, but with far fewer kobols than Rahe usually saw; they must be out hunting, or sneaking crops from the further homesteads. Old Scar remained, however, overseeing the pack, and jumped to greet Rahe as limberly as the others did. He nuzzled along her side, paying careful attention to the swell of her middle. He touched it gingerly while the others stood aside, chirping and grumbling at each other if what Rahe now recognized as some type of language, though she couldn’t understand it. A few brave ones also caressed her, walking circles and exploring her new form, and she interrupted them briefly with putting her bedroll down.

“I stay,” she tried, gesturing at herself and at the den. “I’m staying here, with you.”

Maybe they didn’t quite understand. Maybe they did. It didn’t matter. They’d learn, once she didn’t return to the human settlements. Once the days passed and she bore their young.

She sighed then, bending to tug at her shift, pulling the linen from around her middle and tossing it down alongside her bedroll. There was no point in wearing clothing, not when the den was skin-cool and the outside was buzzing with summer heat. And it would give her a chance to finally wear the presents they’d made her, to show them she really would stay. A couple of the kobolds chirred excitedly as she took off her shift, but the noise quickly halted when Old Scar and two others glanced at them.

Carefully, Rahe went about unrolling her blankets and extra clothing in a corner further away from the den entrance. She sat on her knees, untying the large tunic, then spread one blanket and folded it in half, that enough for her to make into her sleeping pallet.  She did the same with the second, the last lumped next to it for a cover. The rest of her small belongings she left in her purse to one side, save a few trinkets that she displayed on a flat rock, the dirt brushed away. Her clothing she rolled up inside each other to use as a pillow, beat slightly flat and smoothed down.

Satisfied, she lay down on her blanket and drew the other over herself. She knew that the kobolds wouldn’t try and take her things; the items they’d given her always remained where she put them, not far from where she’d set up her blankets. And if they did express interest in blankets or clothing, well, she could send them to find materials perhaps, and rough weave for them, like her mother had taught her…

Rahe curled up tighter, arms overlapping her belly and face turned toward the den wall. She could hear the movement of her kobolds behind her, a couple close enough that she felt a gentle tug at her blanket. But when she didn’t respond, they let her be.  


It was a strange split life she’d had, before leaving. She knew the ins and outs of the farm as well as her parents, learned enough to run it daily if she must. She’d begun to learn the kobolds by personality rather than only look; the way they held themselves, their voices or eyes. So, in the upheaval, and with nothing but time to occupy her, she sheltered herself within the dim light of the den as if she was hiding away from the world. And in a sense, she was.

Her belly grew larger over the course of days, the roundness developing into an ample swell beneath her comparatively small breasts. She became curious once, and rubbed her hand over it, tentatively pushing with her fingertips and the heel of her hand, trying to feel for motion or a sense of what was coming. From what she knew of pregnancy- which was very little- there was a quickening meant to happen, a time when the child would start to move. But insofar as this, she had felt nothing more than shifting caused by her own activity. And when she tried to determine what, exactly, she was carrying, all she felt was roundness.

Now, for sure, she could no longer wear any of her clothing, which added another reason for her to remain in the den. Not that her kobolds simply left her there. The shaft of light that lit the area was enough for most of the day, and if she needed, a fire could do equally well. She draped herself in the gifts they’d given her, stringing together the small bits and bobs they’d made into a more fitting necklace of dangling bones and sticks, and bits of glass. A cuff of smooth bark adorned her wrist, and the beads and feathers they brought her loose, she braided into her hair.

Her kobolds seemed pleased, acting much like ravens as they found more shiny things for her to string upon herself aside from the food they brought her. Soon, she had thick neckwear draped from her throat to her breasts, a belt of sinew and hide studded with a rainbow of tiny stone chips. Feathers framed her face, and laces dangled from her ankle, yet more bones clicking together satisfyingly as she moved.

Rahe’s most prominent decoration came in celebration.

The full moon graced the sky just over a week after she’d come to stay at the den. The white light lanced through the cave, throwing blue shadows against the walls and the kobolds, who had gone and gathered roots and leaves beyond their normal food fare, and crushed them between rocks with clay and water. Color seeped as if the stones were bleeding, and the kobolds gathered it with their hands, painting each other with fingers or tail tips, leaving full handprints or coating a shoulder in red or green.

What they were celebrating, Rahe didn’t know. Perhaps the blessing of a god, if kobolds worshipped. Perhaps a prayer, demanding cooler weather or better hunting. Or maybe it was something else entirely, because Old Scar was the last to be anointed, his face plastered in red and sliced with green, his chest with a long drawn handprint from shoulder to hip.

That was, he was last until he turned to Rahe. She sat on her blanket along one wall and watched them, burdened by the weight of the pregnancy which had ballooned quickly and pushed her stomach into a wide expanse of dark blush. Her skin stretched across the very small, incremental movement she felt inside, dragging at her back and sitting between her hips uncomfortably. She’d continued to stay inside the den for safety’s sake, unbalanced by the mass and watched warily by its sires whenever she grew too restless to sit about.

The kobolds crushed more clay together while she shifted to relieve some of the pressure on her aching hips. Snaggle gathered the paste on his fingertips and reached out to her, touching it to Rahe’s face and drawing a line from her jaw over her nose and to her other cheek. More, and he drew a curve across her bicep and dragged it down into a long shape that faded around her elbow.

He created rings around her forearm, painting the ends of her fingers solid, and then repeated the pattern up her other arm, though he left that shoulder blank.

Lovingly, he drew both hands from her clavicles, streaking the red over her chest. Her legs he treated much the same, leaving a handprint high on one thigh, while the opposite knee he dotted with large circles that melted into solid color closer to her ankle.

And finally, he began on her belly.

A glob of paint in hand, he drew his finger down over her navel, then across, and joined the sections. More bursts of color joined them, flicked like sun rays around a core, and dotted at the tips with green.

Rahe was so entranced and so comforted by the motion that she simply sat, legs splayed and back to the wall. Snaggle used the last of the green to place a handprint just under her breast, and then painted two long lines of red from side to side, low under her belly.

Leaned back, her eyes closed against the well of pain that had crept over her since yesterday, Rahe breathed through her nose. After a long moment without the feel of Snaggle’s hands anointing her, she tilted her head, and tried to turn again, the ache throbbing through her pelvis. Blue and Pebble chattered at each other, nudging Rusty forward while Old Scar looked on.

Snaggle pushed the rocks out of the way and Rusty took his place, curling the end of his tail loosely around Rahe’s ankle and ducking his head below her belly.

She shuddered as his tongue flattened against her exposed nethers, his saliva slicking her entrance as he dragged upward. The bifurcated tip teased her clitoris, and then he slid back down, guiding it inside her as far as he could reach.

Rahe’s body jumped; her muscles clenched around both the offspring inside her and Rusty’s tongue, but she spread her legs, willing to take whatever distraction they could give. The rest of the kobolds, however, stayed uncharacteristically away as Rusty tended to her, the rib of scales on his nose pressed between her folds and rubbing up underneath her clitoris as he tongue fucked her. She dug her nails into the dirt, panting, her body coming alight with sparks and flashes of pleasure.

The feeling curled, hot and wet inside her, teasing her walls and clitoris alike, and she swayed her hips into the motion. Her chest heaved, belly firm, and moments later, she came with a moan as Rusty’s tongue bathed her folds. Head pounding, but her orgasm taking a little of the pain from her middle, she sat panting, legs cocked around him. He delved inside her once more, causing her limbs to shake, hips aching and-

A gush of fluid burst over Rusty’s muzzle, dribbling onto Rahe’s blanket. He flinched back, licking the fluid from his mouth, but Rahe wasn’t paying attention. The edge of pressure her orgasm had muted came back in full force, her stomach flexing against what was inside. Her hands scrabbled for purchase on the ground, fingers curling in the blanket, and her moan turned into a groan that ripped from her throat.

She didn’t notice the kobolds now gathering around. Rusty backed off, but not much, and Old Scar quickly came to her, nosing at her with deep breaths. She caught the base of his tail in her hand and clung, fingertips white, and while his initial reaction was to jump, he stayed where he was, tucked along her side.

Rahe’s stomach visibly shifted, her contractions having been subdued until now as her body readied itself for the kobolds’ offspring. With no experience to help, Rahe was at a loss, caught up in the pain and the feeling of her muscles moving, pressing down on her. Legs already open, she slid her feet farther, but the position put enough strain on her sides and back that she couldn’t hold it. A contraction squeezed and she felt like a grape, as if she was going to burst from too much.

However, it subsided briefly- not entirely, her lower half feeling heavy and aflame- and she pushed away from the wall with her shoulders so she could ease herself onto all fours, belly swinging low under her and forehead digging into her arm. With little left to do against the process before her, she pushed, knees slipping wide and rotund stomach flexing. Once, then again, she felt the pressure between her legs build and subside, rocking shallower and deeper with each held breath. She couldn’t tell if anything was happening other than her whole body mutinying against her.

Tears welling in her eyes and sweat already beginning to dampen her skin, she pushed herself into sitting on her knees, only vaguely paying mind to the chittering kobolds and their intense focus on her. Old Scar remained at her side, and when another contraction hit, she grabbed for him, this time finding his leg to cling to.

“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered, wiping her face. The kobolds couldn’t offer much advice either. Choking back the sobs she wanted to let loose, she adjusted again, hanging onto Old Scar and the wall and getting half to her feet. She swayed, then steadied in her crouch, and then she felt another wave of squeezing overtake her and pushed along with it, silently begging for something, anything to happen while her voice ground in the back of her throat.

This time, something did. She heaved against the burning between her legs, dribbles of liquid soaking into her blanket, and then suddenly she felt the swell of something, and gulped enough of a breath to keep her from being lightheaded. Gritting her teeth, Rahe pushed, then pushed again, the swell inching forward.

And then suddenly its broad roundness edged beyond the tipping point, and the speckled egg popped from her, rolling to a halt on her blanket.

It was oblong, like a giant, melon-sized chicken egg. Panting, Rahe stared at the off-white, freckled surface still coated in birthing juices. The kobolds chittered excitedly, one reaching forward to whisk the thing away to one side, where he inspected it.

Rahe, meanwhile, didn’t have time to wonder what would happen to it. Her contractions hadn’t ceased after that single egg, and her belly was already squeezing another as it slowly moved into her canal. She groaned, leaning against the wall, and finally had to take a knee to relieve some of the weight on her shaking legs. Breathing through her nose, she simply pushed, rocking forward and back, and then slowed when she again felt the spread of her folds around shell.

This one came easier than the last, her canal stretched wide around it, and like the other, it popped free in one long push and was spirited off by kobold hands.

Rahe, in the throes of delivering her third egg, couldn’t tell whether her stomach had lessened in size at all. It still felt hard and round, surely stacked to the brim with far more eggs than she’d thought possible. She flattened her palm under the swell of her belly and pressed with the ball of her hand, now able to tell as the eggs turned and shifted, readying themselves for birth.

 _Pop_ , and the egg was carried off by Blue, Rahe already focusing on the fourth, and then shortly after, a fifth.

Her body picked up a rhythm somehow, her contractions like the trot of a horse, her breathing in time with her pushing. One of the eggs felt massive; she pushed hard, taking barely a second’s breath to keep the pressure going as it stretched her wide around it. But it gushed free all the same, fluid dribbling down her legs and another of its siblings on the way.

She lost count somewhere in the middle, focused on each egg individually. The kobolds dutifully cleared them away as they rolled between her legs, so she couldn’t even count them as they came, not that her numbers did her well even when she was concentrating. But as she strained against them, she could feel the curve of her belly dissipate under her hand.

One long, hard push saw the advent of an egg followed immediately by a second. Rahe leaned forward, exhausted, muscles twitching, and pushed twice more while two kobolds cleared the way.

A last, huge egg swelled from her, retreating just briefly as she caught a breath, and then, with a groan, it too gushed forth, falling gracelessly to her bedclothes in a wash of fluid.

Her legs slipped slowly down, and Rahe eased flat. Her body still twitched, hips still aching, but after the last egg, the contractions quickly ebbed and left her a hazy mess awash in her own fluids, sweaty and tired, hair bunched along her shoulders. Old Scar picked his way around her side, and without a sound, curled up against her back. Hookclaw joined him readily, resting his head gently on the small of Rahe’s back. Two others joined them as well, but Rahe only felt their comforting weight, her eyes already closed.

Blanketed in the warmth of her kobold pack, she slept.

***

 

_Epilogue_

 

The society of kobolds had grown exponentially in the seasons that Rahe had joined them. Once only a score of lonely males, she had borne five times that many eggs, and each of the nests had been healthy. In fact, they'd been stronger. And they didn't want to leave.

So, instead of moving, the kobolds did the next best thing. Their den had been built into foothills which spread for miles around, and that meant expansion was easy for the industrious creatures. And the more they built, and the more kobolds were born, the more Rahe noticed _systems_.

Instead of a cacophony of activity spouting here and there, and with no rhyme or reason, Rahe saw the kobolds assigned to jobs, taking turns at digging or building or hunting. She saw them build tools, chipping shale into blades to make breaking soil that much simpler, patching walls with mud and stone to keep them stable while the cave became a network of interconnected tunnels and caverns.

Now, she saw as well, that the younger kobolds had begun directing the older, her mates giving way to the habits of their children, though never coming quite close to the same precision or efficiency. And of course, Rahe knew instantly the kobolds that were her mates, all by name and by voice or color, but even so, the young were vastly different. Their skin was still rough, but not as scaly as their predecessors, their horns smaller and more rounded. Their eyes held a distinct gleam, a want for knowledge and a breadth of capacity for learning, and like their skins of more brilliant colors, their eyes shifted from muddy browns to blues and golds, and greens.

Even their voices were different, higher pitched to carry greater distances, and their language, developing between each other rapidly and yet still not understood by Rahe, seemed to indicate much more than their sires could hope to say. Rahe could hear the repeating sounds within and even thought she might know what they referred to, simply by the body language of her children.

At the same time, their want to become a clan, nay, a _society_ , meant that their large numbers also expanded their territory outside the caves.

They lost five younglings one season, when they drifted too close to human settlements, and Rahe couldn’t help but notice later that same month, a selection of familiar-looking bones whose flesh was removed and burned to ash outside, the remains fashioned into small blades and jewelry pieces. Honestly, Rahe couldn’t have scolded them for that; their siblings- her children- had been killed.

Thankfully, that spark in her childrens’ eyes meant that she, too, could teach them. On their hunts, and through their excavations, they brought her things just as their sires did. Mushrooms, bits of old wood, flowers, even some indication that after the trouble with humans, they still raided- vegetables carried in pouches at their hips or in their arms. And while Rahe didn’t know much about how to keep a cave from collapsing, or how to track a wild boar, she did know how to make those prizes useful.

So she taught the kobolds, their faces flat and concentrated, to seed the vegetables, to dry them in the sun for planting. She taught them to pile their refuse, to dig a pit and turn it with leaves, and to allow worms to churn it about.

Rahe sat among her mates and her children, and watched them become something more.

They had no need for housing, protected from the elements in the cave itself, but they quickly learned that instead of building simply _out_ , they could build _up._ They dug, and lashed together matchstick trees to bury in the holes, and built from them, lashing more in squares and triangles. Rahe showed them how to weave with long vines and grasses; in turn, they crafted bins and baskets, and raised their gardens closer to the cavern ceiling, where the sunlight was brighter.

They wove mats, and partitions and created pathways, each new nest of children brought into the fold and redoubling upon their society.

And Rahe moved among them all, her back still straight though she was often heavy with eggs, and her own dress and possessions not more than theirs, though she remained painted with reds and greens and grays of clay across her arms and hands, and gravid belly.

She stayed out of the way of her children, them always on some quest or another to bring water from below, or to breed cave slugs, or poke pockmarked holes in the ceiling closer the plants. What she was to them- a mother, an overseer and loved one, and to her mates a vessel for their seed but no less loved for it- was enough, so long as they trusted her words of humans.

Today was no different. A hunting party had already left, gatherers as well having gone to the forest and into the caves for their mushroom harvest. Early fall offered less light; the kobolds that had taken to farming had already collected most of their own harvests to put away or dry, and the sun trickled through their ceiling vents.

Two juvenile kobolds- Chree and Manx- kept Rahe company behind her screens through most of the morning. Her mates, as well, didn’t wander far, Old Scar hunched and resting just on the other side of the partition while Blue and Mothwing remained inside.

She’d begun a passive labor late the night before, her hips beginning to ache, and the slow build of contractions eventually waking her before the sun rose. Too, her breasts had begun to leak in the days previous, an advanced indicator that soon, she’d deliver. Thankfully, while her children didn’t find her swollen breasts appetizing, her mates enjoyed suckling at her teats as much as she enjoyed the relief.

Births over the past seasons had become even easier as well, the older of her children having presented her with a smooth-worn piece of wood which they affixed to a small shelf of stone in her personal space. At first, she hadn't understood the use, but when she'd gone into labor, they'd nudged her closer to it and dragged her into sitting. It allowed her to rest her legs, keeping them spread wide but also giving her a way to lean so that as she birthed the next of her clutches, the eggs dropped easily into a hollow below, where they could be collected by the kobolds that weren't tending to her.

So of course she used it, to great success- the struggle of birth reduced to nothing more than sitting and allowing her body to do as it desired, helping the eggs along with her own pushing.

Rahe sat, her legs spread, and her labor having commenced- already, three eggs had been spirited off to their nest to be tended. Blue crouched at Rahe’s side, Mothwing at her other, and nuzzled close, lips pulled around their teeth to spare her any bites as they nursed at her overfull breasts.

No longer was a birth the terror it had been; pleasure coursed through her at the feel of her mates’ tongues, as her canal stretched around their newest brood. A few of the previous clutch peeked around the edge of the screen, chattering at each other. Rahe chuckled, clicking her teeth at them and pausing to push, the egg crowning slowly and popping free in a rush. Chree skittered forward to grab it and take it away, chasing off her younger siblings as she did.

“You’ll get to meet later,” Rahe said to their retreating backs. “You have many more siblings on the way.”

One after another, she birthed her clutch. Her massive belly clenched around the weight of the eggs inside, dropping them heavy into her pelvis. And just as they had been all the times before, they were soon gathered together in a nearby dugout, huddled in a mass of warm grasses to keep them temperate while their shells dried.

She shifted briefly, wrapping her arms over her mates’ shoulders. Blue nursed a few more swallows of milk from her bosom, then turned so she could use him as a brace while three more eggs dropped into the nest. He churred softly against her cheek, curling his tail stiffly around her leg.

Comfortable as she could be, she remained leaned into Blue, Mothwing tucked against her side, until the last of the sixteen melon-sized eggs was taken away, a phalanx of chittering young ones following Manx as he carried it.

Old Scar and Rusty now turned their heads toward her, the labor finished. They skulked closer, and she rose tenderly from her seat, using Mothwing as a support so she could ease herself down to lay on her bedroll. Rahe knew she wouldn’t be ready to breed again for perhaps another week or so, her body needing a chance to recover from the unusually large pregnancy she’d just had, instead of the seeming standard of roughly a dozen.

Her broods, though, did seem to keep getting bigger, not that she minded at all. They were her children, and her mates looked just as pleased as she did, the ones at her sides curling up with her like watch dogs.

She’d be ready soon, ready to give herself to them, to bear more of their brilliant children.

And she was so excited for what was to come.


End file.
